


Getting Ahead

by HircumIrrumator



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls II
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bondage, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gore, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Rope Bondage, The Bearer of the Curse has a cock, Unsafe Sex, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HircumIrrumator/pseuds/HircumIrrumator
Summary: The bearer of the curse meets an individual they had heard warnings of- though, they come to find that said warnings may have been a bit over exaggerated.





	Getting Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> The story can be read as a self insert, if you so choose, but it's intended to be a randomly made bearer of the curse. They're a dex fighter, wielding two falchions, and having a small shield trapped to their left arm, but other than that no descriptions are given- besides that they have a cock.

_"I want to warn you of something. My body."_

 

In the room stood a man- or, well, they assumed it was a man, based on the impressive stature and broad shoulders... From this angle, they could not see anything above the latter- though the body slouched in a rather intimidating manner.

 

_"My body, wielding my sword, a sword forged only to kill."_

 

The hunched form is clad in furs and mail, fabrics and leather. Their shoulders are adorned with the skin of a bear, and the sheath of a rather large sword is strapped to their back. Each gloved hand clutches a rusted blade. In the right, a scimitar. The left, a straight sword.

 

_"My body will show no mercy."_

 

The bearer of the curse takes a step further into the room, and the body turns.

 

_"If you see the wretched thing..."_

 

With this new angle, and the still slouched shoulders, it isn't hard to see... Everything. Where the collar of the body's armor ended, so did their neck. The stump turned to a swirling mess of _crimson_. Their skin, barely visible peeking out from under the neckline of their armor, was pale, a sickly white in most areas, but turning to a grayish purple around the edge of what was left of the body's neck. Their form, held tense as a bowstring.

 

_"...Stay far away."_

 

No sooner than the undead could complete their observation, the body is rushing for them.

It comes closing in, sword raised, and as it moves to swing the undead brings up their shield and bashes them squarely in the chest, forcing the corpse to stagger back several feet.  
It takes longer than they expected for the body- _Vengarl's body_ , their mind supplies- to recover from the stun.

As soon as they regain their footing, however, they're lashing out once more, and this time the undead swings out and meets them with their falchions. They force their swords down, and an awful grinding sound fills the room; sharpened iron on rust. The undead forces their swords down and out, suddenly, and the body's grip on the sword slips, dropping it to the floor. The undead kicks it away with his foot, and as it goes skidding across the bricked floor, Vengarl's body suddenly releases the other blade and moves.

The body lunges for him in an attempt to force it's weight onto the undead and bring them down, but they react in turn, spinning under and grabbing one of the body's arms to force behind them. With the sudden bar the body is turning to relieve the pressure, but as soon as they're turned the undead shoves into their chest again, toppling the body and sending the both of them to the ground.

The undead readjusts as fast as possible, moving their thighs to straddle the body's chest, hands rushing to pull the body's arms together, reaching to their side for a piece of rope and tying their arms. The body underneath them bucks wildly, trying to force them off, but the undead moves one of their hands and presses it down on their sternum, forcing their weight on that arm.

The body stills for a moment, chest heaving up and down with exertion. The only sounds in the room are the breathing of the curse bearer, which seems loud as a firebomb in the stillness, and the wheezing of the body beneath them. 

Now that the curse bearer can stop for a moment, they notice the buzzing just under their skin, and the pounding of their heart in their ears.

Underneath, the body tries to buck out again but the undead clamps down hard, legs, hands, and the body is forced to still again after a minute. 

 

...Something was poking the undead's thigh.

 

They move their left hand down between their legs, shifting uncomfortable as they grasped the sheath of a dagger. Ah. Hadn't noticed that before.

They remove the sheath and dagger, shifting back, taking stock of what was happening.

Gloved hands spread over the expanse of chest, feeling the muscular plane shift beneath them. The ribs below contracted and expanded as though the lungs within them had never contained air. For such an apparently fit figure, such a short tousle had worn the body out quite a bit.

The undead's gaze travels back to Vengarl- no, Vengarl's _body's_ , they remind themself- neckline.

Curious.

The undead brings their hands to the fabric covering the body's shoulders and neckline, pulling it back and exposing the pale expanse of muscular shoulder. The leather of their gloves brushes against the body's neckline, resulting in a shudder from the corpse.

Hm.

The bearer of the curse slips off their gloves, bringing their bare hands to the fabric once more and pulling it aside.

Fingertips dance over the mottled skin of the body's neck, tracing the outline of dark splotches and nasty bruises. Whatever had been used to decapitate Vengarl had not been sharp enough to do the job cleanly.

Underneath, the body shudders again, and squirms.

Hm indeed.

The undead leans in, pressing soft lips against cool skin, tongue soon slipping past and pressing against flesh. From the chest of the body slips a quiet, but deep rumble, not unlike a groan. 

Previously, the undead thought only Vengarl's head capable of noise- though, this discovery wasn't unpleasant whatsoever.

The skin tastes... Well. On top, it is cool, tasting vaguely like damp moss, and dirt. Unsurprising. Underneath, the salty flavor of sweat, and a flavor one could only describe as masculine. It's not a wholly unpleasant mixture, really.

Spur of the moment, teeth clamp down, and the rewarding groan only urges the undead to continue, sucking cool skin between their teeth. With this the body underneath them writhes and squirms, their breathless sounds growing huskier.

More purple, irritated bruises bloom on the body's neck in their wake.

The undead nibbles their way upward, teasing near the edge of the corpse's neck, daring to trace the end with their tongue. Underneath, the body arches up and off the ground, hips pressing against the curse bearer's thighs. They lean back in surprise, only to be greeted with the larger body grinding upward against them.

They lean back in, licking along the edge of Vengarl's neck, where skin turns to flesh. They tongue the edge, hot, wet flesh straddling it, tasting the salty musk of cool skin. The body arches up into the touch, groans growing louder, filling the empty room with sound as his sensitive neck was assaulted by their enemy.

When the mouth pulled away, their tongue tastes of iron. The corpse thumps back to the cold floor with frustration, his chest rising and falling harshly, body slack, save the insistent erection pressing against his trousers and against the undead's own.

The undead brings their hand up to the side of the body's neck, to the edge of the mess. They tentatively rub the pads of their index and pointer finger against the flesh, Vengarl's body stiffening a bit, his cock twitching against the undead's. Slowly, they bring their fingers to the inner ring of the throat, dipping their fingers in just slightly. The body shakes and trembles, and all the same, the corpse grinds up against them wantonly. They slip their hand back out, grazing the edge of his neck to draw another hiss out of the dead man, letting Vengarl's body fall back limp and panting onto the ground.

The undead takes in the sight before them. The pale skin, the flushed, greyish-purple hue that had risen along bitten and marked shoulders and neck, the hard cock pressing against their thigh. Their hand slips down to palm at their cock.

The chosen undead rises suddenly slip from their previous position, keeping hold on the rope holding the body's wrists together. They force the body's arms up and over their head, slipping into the space between each arm to where the body's shoulders touch the undead's knees when they kneel. The stone floor underneath them is rough on their calfs, and the undead shuffles a bit.

Once they're cozy enough, they reach back down with their right, undoing their trousers and pulling out their cock, hard and throbbing.

The damp air in the room is cool against the curse-bearer's skin.

Shuffling forward slightly, they bring the tip of their cock to the body's throat. Beneath them, Vengarl's body squirms a bit, squeezing their arms around the undead's waist.

With their free hand, the undead pets lightly at the sides of Vengarl's body's neck, stroking their palm over bruises and sliding it down over the junction between neck and shoulder.

The arms around their waist loosen a bit, though still holding tight, and they can feel the body relax just a bit. With this, the curse-bearer guides the head of their cock to the throat under them, teasing the edge's with slow, circular motions, before slowly pushing inside. Beneath, the body shifts.

It's... Warmer; warmer than the outside of the corpse's body, at least. Not as moist as one would expect. Experimentally, they slide in a bit further, and the body underneath squirms again.

Pulling out, they release their cock, bringing their hand under their helmet to spit into it, stroking their cock loosely, focusing on coating the head.

They slip their dick back inside and thrust once, twice, just to watch the bulge move where their cock slides down. This time, it glides in much smoother.

The undead brings their free hand from the body's shoulder to the front of their throat, petting their thumb over the adam's apple. They jam their cock down the tight throat, burying themselves to the root, the edge of the body's neck coming to rest in their pubic hair, engulfing their cock. Their other hand moves to Vengarl's shoulder. Holding him there, they begin to snap their hips, short, hard thrusts driving themselves deep.

Underneath, the body's squirming becomes rougher, becoming frustrated with a lack of stimulation on their part. Vengarl groans, sending vibrations along the undead's cock, and with this, the chosen undead cums, shuddering with each pulse of their cock as they release, pouring into the body's throat as it's muscles tense around them.

After a moment, remaining fully seated, they grab ahold of their base and pull themselves out, a string of cum following them and dripping out onto their lap. Then they pat the body's pec a few times for good measure. He squirms again.

And so the undead rises once more, putting the corpse's arms back down over their chest again, and moving to straddle them again, thought facing backwards this time. They reach down, tugging at the body's belt before roughly shoving his pants down, and watching as the corpse's cock springs up. It looks painfully stiff, and at this point the precum which had been beading is starting to dribble down as it pulses in the cool air.

The undead takes it into their hand and pumps it as they work their other hand towards getting their own pants off- should've thought to do that before getting comfortable, and then reaching into one of the pockets for a jar of oil. Not the flammable kind, mind you.

Their hand leaves the cock and goes to to jar, opening it and dipping their fingers inside, smearing a good glob of it onto the cock before them and reaching back with the rest to their plump, waiting hole.

They slide one finger in, and then two, pumping and scissoring in and out, before adding a third, and waiting to readjust. Then, finally, they position themselves over Vengarl's body, feeling the head of the cock press against them, and slide onto the tip.

Behind them, they feel the body lean up straight, pressing his chest to the undead's back, and oh, that has to be the sexiest thing yet, until they reach their arms up and over the undead, forcing them down roughly onto their cock. The undead's back goes ramrod straight, and they make a choked sound behind their helmet, but the arms just tighten, pulling them back against the body's chest and down onto the cock.

They continue to thrust roughly, as well as they can with their position, and oh, it's too full, too much- before the head of the cock in them rubs up against their prostate and a jolt of pleasure rocks through them, dragging a harsh, breathy moan from their lips, almost a cry.

With this the body slows, just slightly, and begins grinding directly into the undead's prostate, leaving them shuddering with each moment.

The body's arms feel damn near possessive against them, holding them close, and the gloved hands which had been fisted into the bottom of their tunic move to the curse bearer's cock, hard again, squeezing hard, and it's too much. The undead cries out, tightening around the body, and their cum shoots through gloved fingers and splatters onto the cold floor before the body beneath them slams harshly in once before filling them to the brim.

 

_"Ah, it was you who vanquished my body. It is my body, you see... And I can sense what happens to it..."_


End file.
